


allowed

by liveonthesun



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: F/F, Light BDSM, Necrophilia, You Are Allowed To Want, more like emotional necrophilia than real necrophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25776556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liveonthesun/pseuds/liveonthesun
Summary: SPOILERS FOR HARROW THE NINTH, specifically, chapter 27.Harrow fucks Ianthe. The Body watches.
Relationships: Harrowhark Nonagesimus/Ianthe Tridentarius, Harrowhark Nonagesimus/The Body, Harrowhark Nonagesimus/The Body/Ianthe Tridentarius
Comments: 18
Kudos: 116





	allowed

> _The smooth claw of the finger joint felt cool against your mouth. Her head was quite close to yours. The lace nightgown gapped, somewhat, at the front. The Princess of Ida said, “I already know how I’m going to thank you,” and you were bemused. You absolute idiot baby, you were mystified. You were tired, and you were embarrassed, and you were riding high from the satisfaction of doing one half-perfect thing – of having committed a low miracle of your own devising – of, for a handful of minutes, being Harrowhark Nonagesimus again, the greatest necromancer produced by your dark and sacred Drearburh._  
>    
>  _Ianthe took her finger from your lips, looked at you, and smiled a phosphorescent and confidential smile._  
>    
>  _She said, “I’m going to help you kill the Saint of Duty.”_
> 
> _—Harrow the Ninth_

When she said those words, a wave of relief washed over you. You knew Ianthe was not your ally, even in this. You knew that she would not have offered you help if she could not see something in it for herself. But in this moment, you did not care. She was on her knees next to you on the bed and you rose to mirror her position. You took everything within you — your desperation and loneliness, your anger and exhaustion — and you kissed her.

It was not a nice kiss. Even if the both of you had not been so gruesomely covered in Ianthe's blood (which, _disgusting_ ), your distaste and your distrust for her would still have prevented the possibility of it ever being nice. But you bit at her lips and dug your nails into the back of her neck at the base of her skull and you poured all of your frustrations into her. She leaned into you, sliding her arms around your waist and you shoved her arms away, unclasping her hands from behind your back.

You were not doing this for her. You remembered the way it had felt to have her helpless underneath you, the way she had been at your mercy just a mere half hour earlier and how good it had felt to feel control over something when any sort of control over your life had been so far out of your grasp for so long. Ianthe, shaking and whimpering beneath you as you remade her arm, completely at your mercy, trusting you with her body, had been thrilling and you weren't ready to let that go.

You remembered the strip of fabric she had torn off and stuffed in her mouth and reached down for another one, tearing it from her nightgown in one clean rip. You brought her arms between your bodies and she had the gall to smirk as you tied her wrists together, the flesh to the bone.

" _Nonagesiumus_ ," she practically purred as you tightened the knot, "I didn't know you had it in you."

You rolled her eyes at her and said, "Would you like me to sew your mouth shut for you as well?"

"Not particularly. I still remember those enormous needles, by the way. I see them in my nightmares. But, message received."

She'd raised a single eyebrow at you as she said this and you were incensed, insulted that she would think this was something you were doing for fun.

You brought your mouth to her neck, finding the pulse point with your tongue, and then pressing your teeth into the skin there. She gasped and swayed back, just an inch, but enough to make you reach behind her to steady her in place. She let out a soft throaty chuckle that you simultaneously heard and felt, humored, you guessed, buy the assumption that you had shown your cards in catching her, saving her from toppling off the bed, assuming this meant you cared in some way about her. But Ianthe could have fallen head first off the bed and you would not have been in any way concerned. You simply did not want her lying down.

You brought the arm around her waist to drape over her shoulders, and continued at her neck with your lips, teeth, and tongue, leaving what you were sure would have been lovely bruises if either of you bruised anymore. You reached her other pulse point and stayed there, counting the beats of her heart and thinking about how _easy_ it would be to just eat her throat out right then and there.

One failed murder attempt in recent days was enough for you, though, and you worked down to her collar bone, pressing your tongue into the dip in the center. You slipped your hand under her dress, ran your fingers along the edge of her panties, right at the join of her thigh and pelvis. She hummed with glee and tried to grind into your hand, but you flinched it away at the first sign of movement. She let out a frustrated groan. You brought your head up to look her dead in the eye and pinched at her shoulder as hard as you could, twisting the skin a little between your fingers. The gasp she let out could have been either pleasure or pain and you knew you hoped it was the latter.

You noticed something over her shoulder and glanced over to see the Body, sitting in a chair against the wall and looking right at you. You froze. She smiled at you, knowingly. You smiled back and kept your head up, maintaining eye contact with her as you continued on with Ianthe.

You returned your hand and this time, slipped your fingers under the scant, lacy mesh fabric of her panties and against her cunt and holy _fuck_ she was wet. Your fingers were slick now and you slid them up to her clit. Her hips gave a quick jerk and her breath caught, a beautiful little sound when you imagined it coming from another woman's mouth. You loosened your grip on her lowered your arm back to her waist, holding her much more gently that you had before. One hand on the small of her back and one hand sliding fingers around the small swell of her clit, you pressed your face against her neck and closed your eyes, imagining the skin was not hers. You did not know how long you could convince yourself of this, of Ianthe being not Ianthe, but the woman your heart had belonged to for almost as long as you could remember.

It was not Ianthe's cunt you slid your fingers into and those were not her muscles clenching around your fingers. It was not Ianthe's clit you ground into with the heel of your hand. Your fingers curled in behind the pelvic bone that did not belong to Ianthe and stroked at the soft, spongy spot they found there. It was not Ianthe who cried out loud and bucked her hips as you fucked her with three fingers, keeping rhythm with your palm still on her clit. It was not Ianthe crying out a stupid nickname for you as her cunt spasmed around your fingers, as her thighs trembled and she dropped her head back, riding out her orgasm with a gasping laughter.

Your wrist was getting tired. You opened your eyes again to see if the Body was still there. She was, and still smiling that small, knowing grin. You blinked and she was gone.

You slid your fingers out of Ianthe's cunt and pulled your hand out from between her thighs. You removed your arm from behind her back, and she fell back gracelessly onto the bed with a yelp. You swung yourself off the bed and went to her bathroom to wash your hands.

When you passed by the bed as you left the bathroom, she smiled at you and breathlessly asked, "Harry?"

You turned sharply on your heel and flipped her off over your shoulder as you walked out the door.

(Later that night the Body would come to you and simply say, "You are allowed." 

"To what?" you asked. 

And she replied, "To want.") 


End file.
